Colours of The Heart
by IncitementToDiscourse
Summary: With Ethelbard dead,life seems to be peaceful again. But Frey's life is suddenly thrown upside down when she is officially crowned princess, initiating her into the deceitful world of politics. As she struggles to discern between friend and foe, disturbing flashbacks from a forgotten past threaten to destroy the relationship with the man she loves and expose Norad's darker reality.
1. Chapter 1 - Red

Hi all! SPOILER ALERT!

This story starts after the second arc of the plot, where Ethelbard is defeated. I try to stay away from repeating the plot lines and events already in the game, and some of my characters are exaggerated or portrayed in a slightly different way. I hope you enjoy reading this. Cheers.

* * *

**Chapter 1 (Red): We Start by Painting the Town Red (And A War About Cake)**

Red – everything around her was consumed in it.

Usually such a beautiful colour, Frey stared in disbelief as the now sinister colour continued its advance, engulfing everything that she had come to be so grateful for.

"Everything…" she croaked, her voice straining against the intense heat and pain. "Everything…is my fault!" A distinctive cold sensation hit her cheeks as she gave up the internal fruitless struggle to stop trembling.

Shock. Anger. Sadness. Pain. It came in waves, paralyzing her in the moment. This had all been her fault, and she knew it. Why had she come here in the first place?

Why – yes, _why_.

A loud crash erupted from behind her as the foundations of something heavy was devoured by the flames. But she did not hear it. It was like being frozen in time, where the world suddenly disappeared and all that was left were your thoughts.

"Frey!" a familiar voice called out urgently as she felt herself being roughly jerked to the side. Instinctively, she turned towards the source of the voice, but her attention was somewhere else. The red – it reflection danced in the puddles surrounding her. Numbly, she lifted up a hand that had touched one cold puddle.

_It is red too._

"…Frey!" A slap suddenly jolted her out her shock. "SNAP OUT OF IT!" the voice growled as the grip on her shoulders grew more painful. "_LISTEN_ Frey, we do not have much time to talk. Whatever you have done and witnessed here today, you MUST NOT tell anyone of this – do not, I repeat_, do not speak of this to anyone! _Nobody can know who is responsible!"

_Responsible? I don't understand._

"….But!-" she heard herself start to protest.

"-No Buts! We need to go! _NOW!_" the voice interrupted as the iron grip hauled her upwards.

"BUT I!-"

A dying scream had cut her words short.

* * *

"Princess…Princess!...Princess!"

Still disoriented, Frey opened her eyes with great reluctance to meet a worried pair of sky blue orbs. "Ah…Vishnal…what is it?" she groaned unhappily.

The young man's expression visibly softened and looked relieved. "Princess, you were moaning terribly in your sleep. I was really concerned so I woke you up. Were you having a bad dream?" He smiled gently at her and took a step back, putting a respectable distance between them.

"In any case," he added before she could respond, bowing slightly with his hand on his heart, "I am glad to see that you are okay."

"Vishnal… you know what would really ensure that I am feeling okay?" Frey grinned, stretching herself out like a cat halfway before dropping back onto the bed with a contented expression, enjoying the slight flush that started creeping into her handsome butler-in-training's face. "If you had brought breakfast!" she grinned.

The flush in Vishnal's face immediately deepened, but this was for a different reason. Damn it, breakfast! How could he have forgotten something so simple, _so fundamental_ to every ideal butler?

"Ah! I am so sorry, Princess!" he exclaimed as tears of shame threatened to cloud of his vision, "I will be back with it at once". With that, he dashed out of the room at such a great speed he might as well have left an image of himself hanging in the spot he had originally occupied.

When the young man had left, Frey let out a sigh.

She had met Vishnal a year back, when she had supposedly fallen from the sky and crashed into the castle grounds. How she had survived was a mystery in itself – apart from the pressing question of how it had all happened. Beyond that, she could not remember a single thing about her past. Her unprecedented arrival in Selphia, and in this castle, marked the beginning of her memories – something her dear friends joked as the start of a new life in their efforts to console her. It was something she appreciated – and had largely convinced herself to accept – but whenever she listened to the town people reminisce about a shared past that seemed so exclusive, the uncertainty and anxiety crept back in.

And that was when the dreams started.

Starting as a repetitive blur of colours and a cacophony of sounds, over time they had developed into clearer images that played disturbing scenes out like a broken tape recorder fixing itself slowly with each replay. Was it a memory? – Frey did not know. But whatever they were, they disturbed her greatly and evoked emotions that she was unfamiliar with dealing with. This conflict between not knowing and the trepidation in light of the truth frustrated her as much as it terrified her.

_No, I will not ruin my day by thinking about this_, she decided. There were more important things demanding her attention today.

Padding over to her large mahogany wardrobe, Frey slipped out of her baby blue nightie and into her casual clothes which bore the marks of time. Examining herself in the mirror, she meticulously tied her pale jade-coloured hair into two pigtails, securing a cuff at each end, before finishing her outfit off with her mandatory princess crown and a necklace that she kept hidden beneath her clothes. With the exception of the crown, she had been wearing this exact outfit when she was first found in the castle. Although it was not the most appropriate outfit for farm work, it was the only connection to her past that she had. She held a dim hope that travelers who wandered into the town would somehow recognize it.

Checking her reflection in the mirror, Frey could not help but scowl at the crown. The princess crown was necessary, her castle's master Butler had advised – no, _insisted_ – for Volkanon carried with him the kind of authority that would make even the scariest of mothers seem like peace-loving hippies. He did not just exude a commanding presence; he would have been the original person that had terrified some random poor soul in history bad enough to want to introduce the word 'commanding' into the dictionary just so he had the vocabulary to speak of the experience. Just the thought of it made her shudder.

* * *

"GOOD MORNING PRINCESS!" bellowed an imposing man with impressively well-maintained facial hair the moment Frey entered the dining hall of the castle. Speak of the devil, she cursed slightly.

"PRINCESS. Breakfast today is PROSCUITTO WITH SWEET ROCK MELON, a SELECTION OF FRUITS FROM OUR FRUIT TREES, paired with RELAX TEA AND HONEY PRODUCED FRESHLY BY BUZZ THIS MORNING!" Volkanon proudly announced, his glowing pride capitalizing every important part of his announcement. He theatrically gestured to food carefully plated at the end of an unnecessarily long table.

"Thank you, Volkanon," Frey replied graciously, "but, where is my cake?"

Volkanon's bushy blonde eyebrows raised oh-so-slightly (even his gestures were so polished, damn it). "Cake? NO PRINCESS, CAKE IS NOT NUTRITIOUS ENOUGH FOR BREAKFAST!"

This prompted Frey to narrow her eyes at him in return. They stood there for a while, a battle of intense staring as the morning sounds of chirping outside the castle window went on. Volkanon's broad and toned body posture was absolutely straight[1], towering over Frey's smaller and shorter stature. As Frey glared on, his ridiculously luscious moustache[2] seemed to expand in thickness and size as the frozen time of staring went on.

_Was the old geezer actually leaning forward, or are my eyes playing tricks on me?_

Her eyes were starting to water. It was always harder to glare when you were the shorter person – you would just end up looking like you were squinting.

"Cake," she hissed, _"is_ nutritious. It. Nourishes. My. _Soul._"

"No, princess." The moustache wiggled, "According to the current edition of _Selphia Women's Weekly_ on page 36, in the fourth section below "_How to wear Chain Mail __Stylishly_", it says on the sixth line that CAKE JUST GOES STRAIGHT TO YOUR [ROYAL] BOTTOM."

Had that statement come from someone else, it would have stumped Frey enough in that moment to lose her concentration in trying to looking menacing. But it was Volkanon. If he read women's magazines, it was in the name of a master Butler's duty. And therefore, as manly as any testerone-charged male could get. After all, the man could smash boulders just by running through them on his morning jogs[3]. You could not argue with that.

"Fine," Frey conceded grudgingly, "I have important matters to deal with today, so I shall not waste my time arguing with you." Sulking slightly, she marched past him and started on her Volkanon-approved breakfast.

This seemed to satisfy the head butler, and the old man straightened and relaxed slightly – or however slightly you could, when you were that poised. "I am most grateful for your understanding, princess. It would be most unbecoming of a princess – and of me as your esteemed Butler – to continue that discussion."

I am not even sure if I am a real princess, Frey added bitterly in her head as she stabbed into a rock melon with murderous intent.

"As for your list of duties today… Prince Arthur came by a few minutes ago and is currently waiting for you in the main farm. He wishes to discuss something urgent with you, but has asked you to take your time as he is quite taken by the 'cute' wooly running around your farm –"

The loud clatter of silverware rang through the large dining hall as Frey dropped her fork.

Oh nonono. NO. NO. NO! _NOT the wooly_. The previous one had been so traumatized by Arthur the last time he came by to the point that every time a pair of spectacles came into view, it had shed all its wool and fainted. She had to release the poor thing back into the Forest of Beginnings and tame a new one.

Leaping out of her chair in the most un-princessy way, she started dashing towards the main farm. Remembering something, Frey paused at the doorway and hollered, "What happened to Vishnal? I thought he was going to prepare and deliver my breakfast!"

Volkanon's expression glazed over slightly. "I generally disapprove of your habits of breakfast in bed, princess. Furthermore, he broke one of the cardinal rules of being a butler forgetting to prepare breakfast beforehand. He is…. being _re-educated._"

Re-education. That meant Vishnal was probably locked up in some hidden part of the castle which he would emerge from a few days later, looking like he had just survived the apocalypse. At night, if you strained your ears and listened really ,really, carefully, you might even hear the semblance of a scream or two.

Frey was not sure who to feel sorrier for now: the new wooly or Vishnal. But as it is, she could only save one person/monster/thing a day.

So she ran out towards the farm.

* * *

[1] _Men are from Mars, and Butlers are from Uranus,_ Point #101: "A Butler should not compromise his posture, for uprightness is next to godliness, which is next to cleanliness and cologne-worthiness"

[2] _Style: What Matters More than Your Velvet Gloves, special Autumn edition for Butlers,_ Point #299: "The lusciousness of a Butler's moustache is fully representative of his competency, it should have the right amount of bounce (the force required to bounce it should be 40N, relative to its length), and be combed 99 times in the morning"

[3] _The Butler Chronicles: Discipline in the City,_ Point #319: "If you can't run through boulders every morning, you can't ever run away from the mundane life … and possibly save your master from a rampaging dragon"

* * *

Just a short note:

I started this story after I finished the game's second arc in the hopes of filling up the blanks in the game's plot such as Frey's past and such. However, I just realized after progressing in the game to the third arc that the game actually does explain some things. I am trying to reincorporate these things into the original storyline that I had plotted out, but some things will still be different. I will also be merging the other Rune Factory's main storylines into the plot (2 and 3 specifically) because none of the Rune Factorys had tied everything together thus far. So I am letting my imagination go wild woohoo! ^^

And yes, the pairing has already been set - although I am still figuring out whether to cast Dylas or Leon as the second love interest. Hm.

Feel free to share your opinion.


	2. Chapter 2 - Golden

**Chapter 2 (Golden): Because No Story is Ever Complete Without A Tragically Injured Male Protagonist **

The farm looked like a mess – a testament to the obvious struggle that had taken place. Broken plant stems were strewn all over the ground, amidst a few squashed vegetables; the fodder box and the fertilizer bin had been overturned, coloring the ground with a rainbow assortment of grasses. In the middle of the wreckage of fallen farming equipment at the corner of the farm, a tall blonde bespectacled male was just about to impose a bear bug onto a sheep-like monster.

"OH MY GODDESS!" Frey screamed, running towards them and gesturing frantically at the sky, "LOOK! WHAT A CUTE BIRD!"

Instinctively, Arthur dropped the wooly, eyes searching wildly for cuteness that gave meaning to his life. In one swift movement, Frey covered the distance between them, scooped up the terrified wooly from the ground, and threw it back into the monster barn like a professional discus thrower.

"The bird! Where is it!?" the wooly's torturer exclaimed in half exasperation, half anticipation.

"Ah….well…It must have flown away…maybe…?" she shrugged nonchalantly.

The man seemed to deflate slightly. "…Ah how unfortunate.. oh! - the wooly has run away too…"

Arthur was intrinsically not a bad person. He simply suffered from an incomprehensible over-enthusiasm (and mild obsession) for things that he found cute. If they say that food is the fuel for the soul, cuteness for Arthur was what sent it into overdrive.

"Anyway, you wanted to discuss something?"

"Ah, sorry. I was distracted. Yes, indeed." His initial sadness seemed to melt away in the face of work - work, in Selphia, was synonymous with 'Arthur'.

"But, before that," he added, "How are you faring?"

Frey felt a sharp pang inside her chest in response to the question. A fortnight ago, she had lost a dear friend. Ventuswill – Venti as she called her– was one of the four native dragons of the realm - the wind dragon to be precise. Those beings were worshiped by people as Gods, for it was them who were solely responsible for maintaining the harmony and life of the land. However, such power came at a terrible price for they sustained the life and energy of the realm with their own life energy. As an old dragon, Venti was dying.

Frey had attempted to save her, but in the end, her plans had been thwarted by the Sech Empire led by its crazed leader, Ethelbard. He was a pitiful man who had been driven insane by his hunger for power. He saw his humaneness as something despisable after he had been defeated by another Earthmate in Norad. Ultimately with the help of the original rune spheres, he had fused his body with Venti, thinking he could become a god. Instead, Frey had cut him down, along with Venti's body.

It hurt to even remember.

"Not so good, but I think I'll live." She replied in a quiet voice, averting her gaze away from Arthur.

_Because that's the only choice in life, wasn't it?_ You either carried on living with the weight of your actions, or died escaping them.

"Frey… - "

" – So why were you looking for me so early in the day, eh?" Frey interrupted, forcing out a smile, "It never fails to amaze me when you actually leave your office."

There was a pregnant pause before Arthur sighed. "…In light of the events that have taken place, a political alliance between the towns of Sharance, Alvarna, Selphia, a few other towns to the south, and the king's capital, Araetica has been proposed. Although Ethelbard is gone, it will not be long before the Sech Empire elects a new leader. We are hoping this new leader would differ in his… _foreign policy_ from his predecessor... –Well, even if he does not… we will be more prepared this time. It is about time we finally united this country against our common enemy."

_A united front…huh?_ For regions so comfortable with models of traditional authority and their respective village heads, nobody 10 years ago would have even imagined this to be possible. After all, who was a fan of change?

"So what do you need me for?"

"Well," and this time it was Arthur's turn to return a smile, "you _are_ princess. I need your approval, of course."

"_Technically_ _Arthur_," Frey retorted, "_you _are supposed to be the prince of this region. You just decided it would be more fun if you gave a person who had just suffered amnesia the job." She folded her arms and scowled. "Don't patronize me. You do not need my approval."

"I wouldn't dream of it, princess." He laughed, resisting the urge to pat her on the head. "And might I remind you, if I did not 'give you the job', you would be homeless by now."

Frey bit her lip slightly. Unfortunately, the man was right.

"Furthermore, the only problem in your statement that I am obliged to correct" he continued, "is that you are, indeed a princess. In light of your successes in Selphia, the king has decided to recognize you as so."

The expression on Frey's face was priceless as the news slowly sunk in.

"…Huh!? w-wait…-w-w-whaaat?! But I - I don't know if I'm even r-royalt-"

"-Don't worry –"

"-How can I not!-"

"-Frey." The blonde man had grabbed her shoulder firmly, staring intently into her eyes. "You have always been princess to all of us. A royal affirmation does not change any of that."

She just returned the stare, dumbfounded. "Yeah but….that means…I'll have to attend balls and all that… stuffy…stuff…right…?" she retorted weakly.

"Well …for now, you just need to head to Araetica at the end of the week to be present for the signing of the alliance treaty." Realizing his proximity to Frey, Arthur released her gently. "Don't worry," he smiled warmly, "I'll arrange that, and I will be here to guide you in your education in being a proper princess. As for the stuffy…stuff, that will only be much later – oh heavens, stop scowling already."

"Arthur."

"Yes?"

"I hate your spectacles."

A mixture of amusement, surprise and superficial hurt graced Arthur's face which Frey did not feel one bit sorry for. Yes, it was spiteful, somewhat. But in that moment, she felt that he deserved it. After all, it was because of him that she was tasked with being Selphia's princess and overseeing its development. Now that she was officially recognized by some stuffy king who she has never seen or heard from, her dream of just retiring to a peaceful farm life seemed further away.

"I… well… I'll let you know the details as soon as I have it…" Arthur spluttered very unprincely, before regaining his composure, "…And Frey. If you need someone to talk to, I am always here. You don't always have to pretend that you're okay." With that, he gave her a nod and started making his way back to town. When he was nearly out of her sight, he reached into his pocket and switched to another pair of spectacles.

In the far corner of the farm, hiding within the shadows of a bush, a golden wooly was watching.

* * *

The clinic door jingled cheerfully when Frey entered. The sound of it brought a wide grin to the red-haired male who was currently the clinic's in-patient.

"Yo." He called out to the silhouette of a female with pigtails from behind the screen.

"Hey Doug" Frey replied, taking in the clinic's sterile white walls and furniture. It was a small and simple clinic run by the town's sole doctor and his wife, who supported him as nurse. She had been in here quite a few times when she had been badly injured and passed out in dungeons, but she could never get used to being there. It was not just the artificialness of the atmosphere nor the pungent smell of alchohol and antiseptic that was discomforting. Rather, it might have been the knowledge that many bodies had visited the place – out of which probably not as many of them had left. Either that, or just the fact that the person who had visited before you had, for reasons a self-preserving healthy mind would not want to contemplate, shed all dignity and screamed like a little girl. Clinics always had that universal claim in provoking the human's 'flight' instinct as opposed to 'fight'. It was hard to fight against possible death – whether it was the doctor's doing, or his incapability to do anything much.[1]

"I see someone has been here before me" Frey gestured to the fresh bundle of flowers in the ebony vase next to Doug's bed.

"Y-yeah." The patient replied, feeling his cheeks warm up slightly, "Amber came by earlier. Illuminata asked her to bring along a fresh bunch that they had just harvested this morning."

Amber. She was one of the guardians that Frey had 'saved'. Guardians were people who had transformed themselves into monsters by becoming one with nature. Locked in their monster forms, they were able to produce enough rune energy to preserve the land and Venti's life for decades. Right now, she lived with Illuminata in her flower shop. Even though she still had a set of butterfly wings – an 'inheritance' from her monster form – she had integrated into the village rather easily due to her cheerful disposition. Doug had mentioned before that if the world were full of Ambers, it would be at peace because they would all just sit around and drink juice or something. Frey figured he secretly admired the girl or something to that effect.

"Amber…eh?" Frey deliberately purred, grinning slyly.

"What? Why are you giving me that look?" Doug replied defensively, his face growing warmer by the second.

"Oh, nothing. You know, just, nothing. It's cuter when you pretend to be so clueless."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Frey studied her male companion's flushed expression with glee. The initial pink flush had spread from his high cheekbones all the way back to his pointy dwarf ears, making it a shade darker than the rest of his face. Apart from their telling ears, Dwarves sure looked so similar to humans, she thought.

"There you go! Precisely what I mean! Good boy, Doug." She proceeded to pat him on the head, but he swatted her hand away quickly.

"Oh come on!-" he exclaimed, coiling up in pain just as he did so.

Frey's expression immediately sobered. "Let me take a look." She ordered as she forcefully straightened the young man out and lifted his shirt. In the battle against Ethelbard, Doug and Arthur had provided some air support against the Sech's crazed leader. However, their airship had been struck by Ethelbard and if not for Arthur's superior piloting skills, the two men might have lost their lives. That did not leave them unscathed though, as Doug was standing closer to the front of the ship that had been blasted. Jones, the town's doctor, had to extract all the wooden fragments that had pierced his body from the impact – one of which had nearly gone through his entire arm. Needless to say, it had been traumatic experience for both men – Doug and the hematophobic doctor.

The stitches did not look as raw anymore, with purple splotches outlining the healthy pink of the healing tissue, but his entire torso looked like a morbid tapestry of barb wires. There were mostly clustered at Doug's right side, with a few others at the mid-torso that had healed up a lot faster.

"Do you always like to undress injured men and pull off their gauze?" he choked, tensing up as the gauze was slowly peeled off his raw flesh.

Frey suddenly became very aware of Doug's lean and toned torso beneath her hands. His skin felt smooth and soft, but muscle was evidently present beneath this deceptive layer. All that heavy lifting in Blossom's store really did have some effect, after all. Frey looked away from those brilliant misty grey eyes as she reapplied a fresh set of gauze and rolled down his white cotton shirt. "Not really, but I daresay I've seen better." She coolly replied.

_I wish, anyway._

A little part of her wanted to stick her head into the ground, or at the very least bury her face into the floor. The only reason why she could not was because that little part of her was too busy having a fistfight with the other part of her that wanted to keep staring.

"What..?" The silence was starting to make Frey feel really uncomfortable. Usually you would expect Doug to have an instant reaction to anything, but this time he seemed lost for words. Or he was actually thinking hard about it.

The truth was, he had actually been thinking about it, and such an inappropriate topic seemed extremely compelling for reasons currently unknown to him.

"…Wait – Frey" he carefully started, "you…you…you don't have your memories back….do you?"

"Nope." She deliberately beamed, expertly hiding her own embarrassment.

"T-then…" he continued uneasily, "W-which man in the town are you talking about?"

"Mmmm…." Frey plopped herself down on the bed next to Doug, tapping her finger on her lip. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, she grinned, "I don't ogle and tell!"

As she got up to rearrange the flowers in the vase, she missed the momentary look of disappointment that crossed his face. "That's….well, not very princess-like behavior." He bitterly chuckled.

"I'm sorry," Doug quickly elaborated upon seeing the Frey's troubled expression, "but Arthur told Volkanon about your official coronation as princess this morning and the old man has been running around wailing with joy. He's even throwing a party for you tomorrow night to celebrate."

"…You don't look too happy about that, though" he added.

"I'm not a princess, Doug." Frey pouted, plucking off a final flower petal before she slumped back into the clinic's visitor chair. "I was simply a stand-in for that not-so-workaholic four-eyes. What if I don't like all those stuffy parties or serious political negotiations? Or what if I regain my memories one day and realize I'm just a simple farm girl with a fancy crown for an accessory? Or…Or… or worse, if I'm actually a…wanted fugitive who was born on the streets!-"

"-Or what if Volkanon tries to marry you off to some foreign prince?" He teased, his infectious laughter hitting the ceiling as he lightly patted the extremely sour-looking girl in front of him. "Wait," he interjected, his expression becoming serious, "Does that mean you'll have to wear frilly dresses from now on?"

"Wha- you – argh, shut up!" she growled, throwing a handful of petals at him, "Doug you idiot!"

The chair screeched against the tiled floor as she got up, blushing. "I'm going to go clear my head in the forest. Send Blossom my regards."

"Frey! – Wait!"

The seething figure paused in the doorway.

"I, uh, I…You know – I honestly think you would, uh, look great in a dres – HEYHEYHEY! What did I say wron- "

His muscles flinched painfully as the door slammed shut. _Doug_, he thought, sinking back into the mattress. Y_ou're a huge asshole. You couldn't even tell her what you were really thinking._

* * *

[1] And you would wish it were the latter.

* * *

Whao, I did not expect such an awesome response. It is my first time publishing something like this online for many years so, I am insanely happy to even just get one follow/like/review! Thank you!

The third chapter will take a while to come up because I have exams looming around the corner in 2 weeks. Being chained to the table from morning to night, ploughing through academic papers and having my head full of Butler/Durkheim/Weber/Foucault/Nora/Marx is killing all the creative juices in me. I think the earliest I could probably update would be in two weeks after I officially graduate. Sorry :(

But I promise to make it a good one :D

**Simply Unknown: Hello you! :) Yeah I was leaning towards Dylas because I find their rivalry soooo cute! Heh, I think there's someone else currently writing a really good fanfict with a Forte/Leon pairing too - do check it out if you're interested. Thank you so much for your kind response :D**


	3. Chapter 3 - Orange

**Chapter 3 (Orange): A Delivery Is Not a Delivery Unless it's In Your Face**

The setting sun was slowly setting, bathing Yokmir forest in a warm orange glow. All around, the forest monsters and animals were retiring for the night's rest. The night monsters – who were not exactly the friendliest bunch – would emerge soon. Orc warriors were clammering for the last few apples still hanging on low apple trees while cluckadoodles[1] gathered a fresh bunch of dried foliage to cover the entrances of their underground nests. The chirping of birds had started to die down, leaving only the serene sound of a stream. In a clearing beside the stream, a golden woolly poked its head out of the cover of a nearby bush.

It was a rather curious-looking woolly. Apart from its unusual golden colour, the woolly sported the head of an acorn for a hat, a red leather belt around its waist, and a sky blue scarf around its neck. And it was amazingly calm. Most woollys would fidget at the slightest sound in the forest, almost like they were having minor electric shocks every second or so; this one just lay still, studying the area around it with a strange sort of diligent alertness. When it deemed the area to be satisfactory, it extracted itself carefully from the bush in an impossibly stealthy manner.

Bending over slightly, it rubbed its odd paws over the wool on its legs, mimicking the human gesture of dusting oneself. Then it plodded off towards the stream with a purpose.

* * *

Volkanon liked reflective things. A clear reflection was the epitome of cleanliness and upmost discipline on the caretaker's part. Better yet – reflective things reflected _him_, and if there was anything he loved more than cleanliness, it was seeing an aesthetically flawless body.

In fact, in the Grand Hall of Selphia's castle, Volkanon was everywhere. He could see himself in the tiles, in the beautiful metal sculptures that peppered its dark corners – even in his shoes! So absorbed was he in admiring himself in the impeccably polished floor that he failed to notice a lanky figure enter from the corner.

"Prince Arthur!" he abruptly straightened when the man suddenly materialized at his side[2]. Dipping slightly in a regal bow, he sincerely apologized, "I did not expect you here today – do forgive the disgraceful state of the place! The preparations for Frey's celebration have made the place rather disorderly." He gestured to the mess of marble tables placed rather haphazardly around the area.

"No, no worries," Arthur smiled gently, "When I was still staying in the palace, massive balls were often held. Seeing as how I was brought up by the castle's butler, such mess is commonplace to me."

The thought briefly brought back fond memories. As a child, he was not allowed to stay in the main castle with the rest of the royalty. Spending majority of his time with the castle's royal butlers, they taught him essential life skills and what it meant to be a gentlemen – advice that he still lived by and kept close to heart.[3] In part, this was probably why he felt most comfortable with Volkanon out of all the townspeople. Interacting with him reminded him of the past, albeit a lot less dramatic.

"Such kind words you have, young master!" Volkanon exclaimed, wrestling back manly tears that were rebelliously breaking free of his eyelids' hold.

Arthur shifted a little, embarrassed. "You think too highly of me, Volkanon. Anyway, how goes the preparations?"

"It is going marvelously, young master! Master Porcoline has graciously taken up the honour of catering to the feast, and I have instructed young Vishnal to watch him like a hawk, lest he eats every dish before he manages to serve it! As for the decorations, Miss Illuminata and Miss Amber are preparing a most beautiful flower tapestry of Frey while Miss Dolce is sewing together a congratulatory banner! Young Clorica and Dylas will be the servers of the day, while Yours Truly and Magaret will provide the night's entertainment! Everything is smoother than a baby's bottom!"

By the end of his report, the old man was radiating so much pride that Arthur instinctively switched his horn-rimmed glasses to a pair of shades. The man was shinier than an overcharged tungsten wire.

"G-Good work as ever, Volkanon." He stammered, patting him warmly on the shoulder which he instantly came to regret_. Oh no_, he thought. _I am making the old man cry again... A-And strangely, my eyes are misting over with tears of camaraderie too.__**[4]**_

As Volkanon worked to will his tears back into his eyes, Arthur turned away towards the hall. It had been a while since he had stepped into the hall and lingered around long enough for a conversation. But no matter how many times he had in the past, the hall never failed to impress him. White marble floors paired with intricately carved columns of the same material boasted of its size and grandeur, its ceiling reaching so high up it seemed to touch the heavens. At the top, the roof opened up to reveal the clear blue sky, emitting light down onto a large circular depression in the middle of the entire hall. Venti, the protector of the town, used to sit there to receive audiences. The huge opening in the roof was functional if she felt like stretching her wings. Now…it was just an empty depression that echoed of a memory, the silence of the hall haunted by the absence of her booming voice.

"Young master?" Volkanon's voice snapped him out of his reminiscing. "This is… something that I should not be asking but… for the sake of Selphia, I am obliged to ask. Do pardon me, and I hope you do not take offence."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up into the air. "Just speak your mind. I am your friend before I am a prince."

The older man cleared his throat nervously. "It's er… regarding Frey's coronation as official princess of Sephia…I have been around long enough to see this realm go through many transitions. Not once has royalty been bequeathed onto a commoner…and not once has the capital Araetica ever thought of forming an alliance given the fierce independence of the surrounding states and villages…what…what is the king – young master's brother – thinking?"

This question caught Arthur by surprise. It never occurred to him that Volkanon, of all people, would ask such.

_Well, that would explain why he never chose to be a royal butler in the capital despite his caliber_.

But yes…it never occurred to him as something out of the blue. After all, he was just too caught up in the good news of it all… - But _surely _his brother has his reasons for it. After all, this was the man who, despite his own inferior status as the bastard child in the royal family, treated him with a kindness and generosity where others had shunned him. This was a man who always wanted what was best for the people, who used to, as a teenager, get into fights with other nobles when they were seen to be ill-treating commoners.

"Volkanon." Arthur finally said, surprised at the forceful tone of his own voice, "I have known my brother long enough to know that whatever decision he has made, he has made it with the welfare of the people at heart. Rest assured, he does this with good intentions in mind." Relaxing a little, he managed a small smile, "If you met him yourself, you would understand. But for now, just trust in him on the basis that you trust me."

Volkanon's forceful stare lingered for a while, before he finally submitted, "I understand. I will question this matter no further."

Relief flooded the young prince instantly. "Thank you, dear friend."

"Now," he continued, smiling, "would you be so kind as to show me the design of this marvelous tapestry you were going on about?

* * *

The woolly was not something he had expected.

In the past ten minutes of waiting, he had steeled himself to face a notorious blood-thirsty criminal – or even a deceptively innocent-looking child who was secretly a trained killer – but not…_this_. Looking slightly disappointed, the young brunette sheathed the dagger he had hidden in his boot and returned to his fishing.

"So, what have you called me here for?"

Cautiously, the woolly sat down next to him and pretended to be engrossed in watching the fishes in the stream.

"Not going say anything, huh?" the fisherman sighed.

Of course it is not, he chided himself. It was a bloody_ wooly._ Sure, his earthmate powers allowed him to communicate with monsters, but it was not like they were especially chatty. Normally it worked more like a badly tuned radio, with bits and pieces of thought relayed to him every now and then. He was still not too sure how everything worked.

_I must be mad trying to communicate with a limited edition wooly. Obviously this was a joke that I took too seriously. Why did I even think the wooly would respond? And why the_ _cluckadoodle__**[5]**__ did I actually travel all the way down here? _

He glanced over at the wooly. It was still engrossed with the fishes.

_I should have listened to reason and not follow through with weird messages shot through my window. Well, look where it got you Kyle. I should finish fishing and go._

Looking up into the apricot-coloured sky, he wondered what his lovely wife would be preparing for supper, and wished he were there to watch her cook. Ah….his wife. These 12 year of marriage (to be precise, about 10 because he was missing for 2 years) have been the happiest he has ever known. "Kyle.." he imagined her cooing, looking as stunning as she did the day they got married. "I made you your favourite –" she said in his imagination as she reached for the strings of her apron…

An accusing cough broke out beside him, causing him to jump. Flushing slightly because his guilty conscience, Kyle's eyes darted around to find the source of that offending sound. But all he could see was nature. _I must be hearing things_, he thought. _Wait – why am I even feeling embarrassed? She's my wife! And I have a child! Technically I am allowed to fantasize about her….right?!_

His fluffy companion patiently upheld its silence.

"Whoever set you up for this is an ass -" he stated as he watched the shadow of a fish creep towards his lure. "-although I got to admit, it definitely fulfilled the part that said to expect the unexpected…" The fish stopped in hesitation. "but the joke's over, and I'm going to go after this."

For a while, only the sound of the stream continued to fill his ears.

Then, softly in the wind, he thought he heard a whisper: "…This is not a joke. Haven't you heard of making sure that nobody else was around before saying something that could potentially get you killed?"

He froze for a second, instinctively reaching down for his dagger. Frowning, he lowered his gaze at the woolly, as if precariously trying to stare into its soul. The woolly returned an innocent look.

Suddenly, it jumped up – headbutting its human companion in the process – and with a paw, started writing something in the soil.

MUST…FIND…WAY…STOP…ALLIANCE…

"What the blo-!" the young man started, but his words were cut off when he read the scrawled words in the soil. Satisfied, the woolly continued,

THINGS…NOT…WHAT…THEY…SEEM…

YOU…SHOULD…KNOW…20…YEARS…AGO…

IT…WAS…NO…COINCIDENCE…

And at the end of it, the woolly drew a stout figure with pointy ears.

The fishing pole was nearly pulled out of its owner's hands with a sudden motion. The fish had taken the bait.

But that was not important anymore.

"So I was right." The Kyle's face paled.

He swallowed hard. Ever since he had gotten back his memory, things did not make sense. Why everything that had happened the way it did – it was all too much of a coincidence. He went searching for answers but they mostly led to dead ends. Everything was simply speculation …until now.

"Who _are you_?" he asked in disbelief, staring hard at the monster.

The reply this time came slower:

AN…ALLY…OF…A…WOOLY

* * *

"Stupid dwarf" Frey muttered under her breath as she cast her line into the shimmering spring lake, "I'll put _you i_nto a frilly dress, and then marry _you _off to some foreign princess. And while I'm at it, I'll make you wear this stupid crown too. _With pigtails_."

She knew that Doug's statement had annoyed her more than it should have, and that she was overreacting. But it really did bother her. She knew she should have expected the dwarf's reaction to be typically blunt, to make a joke out of the matter – but perhaps it was _precisely _because she got what she expected that she was disappointed. A little part of her wished he had expressed just a little bit of worry or unhappiness about the situation.

Because in all honesty, it frightened her.

What if she had to treat the townspeople differently? What if _they_ started treating _her_ differently? What if _he_ did? And what if she gained back her memory? The stakes were different when you were a nobody. There were no expectations placed upon you at all. Or worse still – what if she failed? She had been unable to save Venti despite how desperately she had tried – what makes her think she could even protect an entire town? It was not fair. After finally settling on a simple farm life with occasional princess orders to be sent out every now and then, she wondered how much could she actually sacrifice. Would she be able to give up her entire life just like that?

_Like being married off to a foreign prince for diplomatic reasons._

As all the horrible scenarios she had read about nobility in Kiel's books started playing out in her head, she did not realize she was gripping the fishing rod so hard that it shook, creating little ripples in the water.

Her blue-haired fishing companion glanced over in silent worry. He was not used to such a display of negative emotion from Frey. The stand-in princess was often the life of the village, her beautiful smile imbued with the magical ability to instantly lift the mood of anyone who came across it – or at least, it applied to him. The entire incident with Venti however, had hidden it away. He started to notice that she had become more angsty and emotionally withdrawn herself, almost as if she had shut a part of herself away in order to cope with the present. It was a slow, subtle change. And just when he thought she was healing with time, now this occurred.

Perhaps it was unfair of him to keep expecting her to smile, he thought, but it was never easy to see someone like this.

"Frey…you're scaring away the fish." he pointed out as neutrally as he could.

Her eyes widened in realization and she silently loosened her grip on the platinum rod.

"What's wrong?" Dylas probed cautiously, almost as if he were prodding a sleeping lioness[6].

"Doug." She muttered unhappily.

An awkward grin tugged at his lips. "You're right about that" he grimaced, "There's definitely something wrong with that squirt."

Usually a subject of exasperation for the town, this was one of the rare moments where Frey actually felt glad about the rivalry between Dylas and Doug. Even though the two secretly respected each other, you could always count on one to jump on the anger bandwagon against the other. Insulting always felt better in pairs: because, well, insulting anyone alone just made you look evil, cold-hearted and mean.

Frey instantly felt a little bit better. "Dylas… I'm sure you already heard the news…And I know everyone is really happy for me, but I don't think I am cut out for this."

The ex-guardian gave a thoughtful look, but remained silent.

"Were you… afraid when you had to be a guardian?" Small ripples had begun to appear around Dylas' lure.

"Uh-huh." He replied stoically.

A man of few words, the old horse monster was often misunderstood in the village. But having spent enough time with him, Frey knew that the ex-guardian was just simply bad at expressing himself – the total opposite of the dwarf who expressed himself too much, and often without a mental filter.

Frey pursed her lips slightly. "Do you think I'll be treated differently?"

Dylas suddenly tensed up, steadying his rod as the ripples increased in frequency. "Do you see the others treating me, Leon, Amber or Dolce differently just because we were guardians?"

"You're different…When you became human, you became just another _neigh_bor-"

"-Hey-" he growled, turning to glare at her.

Frey pretended to not have heard that. "A princess… is a different thing. You can't _horse_ around-"

"-Not punny-"

"You got a bite." She interjected in a matter-of-fact manner as Dylas' rod suddenly surged forward. Frey knew the humour was exceptionally terrible, but right now she needed the kick she usually got from messing with him. Distracted by the catch, Dylas sprang up onto his feet and started reeling in the fish. When it was close enough, he yanked the rod towards him in one clean movement and the fish emerged out of the water and flew into the air. Droplets of water splashed onto Frey as the freshly caught mackerel danced at the end of the line.

Dylas proceeded to unhook the unlucky thing, looking extremely proud.

With the fish off the hook, he threw it over to Frey who caught it in surprise.

"This one's for you" he smirked, "At the rate you're worrying, you need some brain food to replenish all those dead brain cells. Stop worrying so much. If you cannot change the circumstances you are in, then the most you can do is to not change yourself."

She gaped at him in shock. Dylas said more than two sentences. And it was not because he was quarrelling with Doug. She turned the words over in her head slowly.

"- …A-And you're amazing the way you are." He added, his voice trailing off as he turned away, covering his mouth.

Feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, Frey threw the dying fish into her bag and flashed Dylas a smile. "Thank you, Dylas" He was right. There was nothing she could do, and all this useless worrying was just turning her into an old prune.

Getting up, she slipped on her water shoes and ran across the lake, large ripples trailing in her wake. "Heyyyy! Dylasss!" she called out to him cheerfully. "I'm going to teach you how I fish that is way more fun!"

And from the shore, Dylas watched in quiet amusement as the pretty girl started diving at the shadowy figures beneath the surface. After much unglamorous tumbling in the water, she pulled a slippery fish out of the water, and held it up in the air.

Jeez, he thought. _She's completely soaked to the bone._

As Frey started doing a little victory dance with the fish in hand, he felt himself start to smile.

_It's almost as if she's back to normal again. _

_Please…_ he pleaded as a familiar warmth bloomed in his chest, _don't change, Frey._

"Oiiii! Dylas!" he suddenly heard her cry, as a large grey object flew towards him at a high velocity.

Before he could snap out of his thoughts, the wet thing hit him squarely in the face.

"That is a thank you gift!" Frey yelled from the distance. "You can ask Porcoline to cook it for the party tomorrow!"

Covering his nose in pain, Dylas tried to stare a hole into the salmon flopping desperately on the ground.

_S-Stupid Fr - argh, why am I still so happy over this!? Am I a bloody masochist?!_

* * *

[1] Curious chicken-like animals that looked exactly like chickens, except that they were aggressive once in sight and they were probably not as stupid.

[2] Possibly in a parallel universe his instincts would have gotten the better of him and Arthur would cease to exist anymore.

[3] Wooing a partner is like trying to tease out spilt wine by irresponsible guests: it requires a great deal of patience, effort, and a lot of praying for success between the agonizing, cursing and swearing.

[4] Damn you collective effervescence.

[5] Alternatively, you can minus the "adoodle" and find another word that rhymes with it for good fun.

[6] You know, because lionesses were badass at killing their prey even without the Fabio-worthy locks of their male counterparts.

* * *

**A/N:**

Okay, I am officially a failure as a model student. I still could not stop myself from writing in the short periods of downtime I had between stretches of studying. Noooooooooo! *flops over on the ground*

I am sorry if this chapter was rather full of serious conversation. I felt the plot was moving rather slowly, so I have to get the political action started! Do let me know if its an overkill, or if you think the pacing is fine :)

Of course, I will not compromise on the not-so-serious parts. I shall balance it with some feel-good moments :D

And a **big** appreciative shoutout to **_Cinnamoroll22_**: I am really glad to see that you have enjoyed this story so far! Nothing is more encouraging than getting a review (whether positive or negative) because at least, I know whether I am on track or what there is to improve upon. Thank you so much for your suggestions! *bow* I might edit and reupload the first chapter at a much later date because I am also aware that I tend to ramble on in long sentences that can be rather tiring to read. I hope this chapter has been as satisfactory as the previous two. :)

And in other news, I just read an article this morning that Neverland, the developers of the Rune Factory series has ceased operations. They are going to file for bankruptcy too. Needless to say, I AM ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATED! NOOOOOOOOO T.T

They were in the midst of working on Rune Factory 5, so I really really _really_ hope Marvelous Games or someone else takes over or someone buys Neverland out. I'm sure you are all equally as horrified too.

Le Sigh.

And to all the Americans, happy belated thanksgiving! (Hope you did not get crushed in crowd during the Black Friday sales hehe. I am not from America but the videos uploaded on youtube of black friday sale fights always amaze me.) :P


	4. Chapter 4 - Sky Blue

**Chapter 4 (Sky Blue): A Party Isn't a Party Unless Something Extremely Embarrassing/Terrible Actually Happens**

Frey felt the cold wall against her back as she backed away from the horror in front of her.

"H-H-Hey, can we please discuss this c-civilly?!" she stammered as her doomed attempt to dig further into the wall failed once more.

"No Frey," Magaret said sweetly with a chilly smile, "It's finally about time you gave in. I cannot stand it any longer. Now-"She took an intimidating step forward, holding the offending thing.

"-be-"

_S-someone… _Frey pleaded.

"-good."

_HELP ME!_

After a few minutes filled with screaming and much flailing of limbs, Magaret stood triumphantly above Frey, radiating pride.

"Gosh!" she squealed with joy, "I was right! You look absolutely a-d-o-r-a-ble!"

_Demon... She's an absolute demon. _Frey wept as the enthusiastic elf hugged her like a puppy and started rubbing her head.

It had all started half an hour ago when Magaret had burst into her room. With a stack of white boxes in her arms, she announced, "Frey! I dropped by the tailors' near Yokmir Forest and he asked me to deliver these to you!" At the time, she was in the middle of preparing for the party that Volkanon had organized in her honour.

"Oh! Thanks Meg." She chirped, setting down her brush on the nightstand and half-skipping over the boxes on the table. A few weeks ago, she had placed half a dozen orders with the tailor after discovering a few threads had ran in her clothes. She desperately needed new sets.

"So…What's in the boxes?" Magaret hovered in anticipation behind as her good friend started unwrapping its contents. The elf had been pleasantly surprised when the tailor had handed the extra boxes over when she collected her newly tailored performance outfit. He mentioned nervously that it was rather urgent, and if she were to be so kind as to drop it off with Frey. As an image-conscious individual, she had nagged at Frey many times to change her worn-out clothing – even offering to buy her a set. But the girl had always politely declined and stubbornly resisted her good intentions, all the while keeping mum why she refused to change her dressing. Finally, these boxes presented a small ray of hope.

"Aha!" Frey exclaimed as she hit gold beneath the many layers of crepe wrapping. Magaret quickly leaned over her shoulder in anticipation. To her dismay, it contained exact replicas of Frey's current clothing, albeit in different colours.

"Frey…" she sighed wearily as the princess gleefully admired her 'new' clothes against herself in front of the room's full-length mirror. "Please don't tell me you're wearing that later for the party."

"Mm-hm!" came her dreaded reply, along with an enthusiastic twirl in front of the mirror.

_I can't believe this girl_, Magaret thought as she sullenly watched an engrossed Frey switch from one coloured outfit to the next.

_Well…at least it's in different colours this time. - . . !- Ah, speaking of linings, I wish Frey's clothes had fancier linings…Ahhh noooooo! Stop Magaret! Don't go there!_

Feeling the disappointment resurface once more, she quickly diverted to turn her attention to tidying up the carnage of ripped boxes that Frey had left behind.

She paused when she noticed one forgotten and intact box beneath the massacre of cardboard and crepe paper. A note peaked out from one corner. Pulling it out carefully, Magaret's eyes traced the meticulously penned words: "Hola Princess! I heard about the celebration and the oncoming trip to the capital! (sniffle) As one of my _most _valuable customers, I decided to rush out this dress for your party tonight. I know it is not really your style, but I feared you might not have anything else to wear. Hopefully, you might grow to like it as it is the new trend by a lead designer from Sharance. (Yes, even this small insignificant tailor is skilled and aware of the larger trends going around! I know I cannot compete with the capital's tailors, but I assure you there is nothing but _upmost sincerity and passion _in my work that _the capital cannot match_! As a boy I had pricked my fingers so many times trying to master sewing, I had difficulty eating _for weeks_ – how many of those capital tailors born with a silver spoon in their mouth can say they understand?!–"

Magaret stopped as the rest of the insecure rambling in the parenthesis degenerated into desperate pleas for continued patronage. The water stains that appeared towards the end also disturbed her greatly. She would never be able to look at the man the same way again.

As the wrapping of crepe paper in the box was pulled back, Magaret gasped. Nestled in the box was an expensive-looking sky blue dress, complete with complex layers of fabric and lace lining that flared out towards the hem. Tailored to Frey's size, the body-hugging silk sleeve opened up into a waterfall of asymmetrical white and jade sections from the elbow. It even came with a lace choker with an emerald embedded in the centre.

A lightbulb lit up in Magaret's head.

_It was either now or never._

Her lips twisted into a devious smirk.

"You look so much cuter now" Magaret stated defensively as the petite soon-to-be-official princess continued to glare at her. For a while now, the elf had been acting strangely around Frey. There were times when she looked unexplainably flushed, and the elf complained about her heart beating too fast around her. At the time, she had found it weird – but simply brushed it off. After all, that path of questioning often set itself up for an extremely awkward situation if one were wrong in their assumptions. Now though, she has unfortunately discovered the source of it all: Magaret had evidently been socializing too much with Arthur. The getting-high-off-cute-things disease had officially infected the fashionista. Alternatively, her maternal instincts – which had always subtly coloured Meg's actions – had finally kicked in prematurely and in full force.

It was days like these that Frey cursed herself for looking so doll-like. Normally, it was an advantage to have – like giving Vishnal the most pitiful face she could muster to distract him from judging her when he caught her scarfing down on cake in the middle of the night. But today…today it simply sealed the passing of her torture sentence.

Gravely, she looked down at the dress.

It was full of…_ribbons_- and what the hell were they _made of?!_ If Leon saw her in this, she would be reminded of it daily for the rest of her life! That cocky dragon-priest had enough to tease her with already. She suspected he never attended festivals for the fun of it, but merely did so to mentally record down every unglamorous moment that inevitably occurred in such festivities[1].

It had suddenly become too quiet. In alarm, Frey looked up at Magaret.

"Something is…._missing_" the blonde muttered as she scrutinized Frey further. That…that look in her eyes…

"M-Meg?" Frey half-pleaded as her 'flight' instincts in the 'fight-or-flight' mechanism of man delivered the final sucker-punch to its contender.

"That's it!" Magaret suddenly yelled out as she grabbed the dress' decent neckline and ripped a new one.

The monsters in the barn outside hardly twitched as Frey's scream echoed throughout the castle.

* * *

Usually known for its serene environment, the Main Hall of Selphia's castle was filled with quite the ruckus as the last few guests had streamed in for the celebration. The hubbub of laughter, music and gossip permeated the entire castle.

Meandering between the tables, Frey staggered towards the buffet spread.

_So….hungry…_

Even though it was meant to be a celebration for her, the sheer number of people who came up to congratulate her had kept her occupied for most of the evening. Furthermore, they kept gawking at her neckline which was incredibly embarrassing.

_Meg_, she silently sobbed as she recalled how her face had a permanent burning sensation for most of the night, _how could you? Even Bado was trying to hold a normal conversation and was too preoccupied staring to try to sell me anything! _

After ripping a really low neckline for her dress, the elf had grabbed all of her new clothes and ran off. Left with only her worn-out casual attire, Frey had no choice but to stick with this abomination that made her look like a giant present. Luckily, she had managed to catch hold of Xiao Pai who was wandering outside her room in the square. The innkeeper's daughter was always handy with a needle when you needed her.

She suddenly realized that she was smiling.

Despite the incredibly terrifying and frustrating encounter with Magaret, Frey still felt really grateful. Whatever idiosyncrasies the townspeople had, they meant well. She glanced up at the giant tapestry of her smiling down at everyone. Wherever she had originally come from, this was now her home after all.

_Home…eh?_

"All right!" she compulsively yelled out to no one in particular. "It's time to enjoy everyone's hard work!"

Picking up a silver plate, she gleefully started her inspection down the line.

_Uwah..Royal Curry! - And grilled lobster! Oh!- There's even cheesecake! _

The assortment of sweet and savoury aromas was absolutely intoxicating as Frey felt her mouth water a little at the stunning display. As she approached the end of the line, her eyes lit up at the sight of something displayed two tables down.

"O….Ootoro ! (Translation: a form of high grade tuna sashimi)" she squealed uncontrollably.

Tuna was ridiculously rare in Selphia. Despite its relatively low shipping value, it was ironically rarer than the rare stones that fetched money in the thousands. Swallowing hard, Frey nervously plucked one piece out from its beautiful chrysanthemum plating arrangement and popped it into her mouth. Tears of ecstasy welled up in her eyes just as the entire display of ootoro suddenly lurched and trembled. Backing away in shock, she suddenly realized what the ootoro was displayed _on_.

Long and silky orange hair…

Incredibly sparkly eyes that looked like a universe of stars…

Sultry pouty lips that would put any duck face to shame…

_P-P-P…_

"OooOooO!" a voice sang, "Mega gOoOd evening!"

"P-Porcoline!" Frey exclaimed, feeling a little sick.

The famous chef's doll-like eyes brightened up at the sound of her voice. "Do you love the display? I did it just for you! It is a new presentation style I learnt from the gastronomy magazine _You Ain't Have Enough Till Your Feet Disappears_!" He wiggled his body a little in demonstration, causing the skillfully sliced tuna on him to dance in little waves.

"Porcoline…" she choked, trying not to look at the wobbling ootoro, "The plating of the fish is b-beautiful but… please put on more clothes than just your pants!"

_Which piece of sashimi had I eaten?! Was it placed at the top, the middle or the bottom?! Damn it I can't remember!_

"Frey…" he gasped, delight filling his face, "is.. the sight of my body perhaps…-" His cheeks seemed a little rosier as he finished his sentence in a seductive whisper, "-making you finally fall for moi?"

A familiar shiver ran up Frey's spine as her stomach churned. Smiling as naturally as she could (well, _as much_ as she could, what with her eyebrow twitching), she replied stonily, "NO." In a parallel world where everyone was less tactful, perhaps the phrase "Never in hell" would have been added.

The famous gourmet was well-known in town for his heart of orchicalum[2]. But regardless of how much Frey respected him for selflessly providing accommodation for Arthur and Dylas, his incorrigibly and inappropriate flirtatious tendencies to Frey would, in some societies, qualify for the early stages of sexual harassment.

Before Porcoline could recover from his shock, a brilliant azure filled Frey's vision.

"Ah, there you are" a deep voice breathed from above. The scent of lemongrass filled Frey's nose as a toned arm pulled her away from the chef-turned-sashimi-plate. "Sorry Porcoline, let me borrow her for a second."

The buffet spread floated further and further away until Frey suddenly found herself on the dance floor. Trying to bury the sharp stab of sadness that accompanied an empty stomach, the princess looked up at the man who had whisked her away in mild annoyance.

"I am glad that you want me to dance, Leon." She said testily, "But if you deprive me of my hard-earned food for even a minute longer, you shall have a dead dance partner."

Her comments only earned a sly smirk from the exasperating dragon prince. "You slay reanimated dragons on a daily basis. I am sure you can survive for a few more minutes on an empty stomach." Winking, he wrapped his arm around her waist. "Now, dance with me for a short while. Something interesting will happen."

"Wha-?"

Frey let out a little yelp as Leon pulled her closer and swept her onto the dance floor. With their entry, Magaret had changed to a tune with a faster tempo. Struggling to keep up with the insufferable fox, the scenery of the Main Hall merged into a blend of colours as he expertly spun her with the rhythm.

When they approached the corner, a flash of fiery red caught her eye.

_Doug!? What was he doing here? Shouldn't he still be warded in the clinic?_

The music gradually got faster and Frey felt herself instinctively cling tightly onto Leon in order to prevent herself from flying off into the crowd. "L-Leon! I'm going to fall!" she managed to squeak out. His smirk widened and he chuckled, "Good. If you do, I'll make sure nobody in this room ever forgets it."

Frey wondered what had possessed her to save this man who was locked away in the forgotten tower of Leon Karnak. The quest to fulfil Venti's wishes to free all the guardians had unknowingly unleashed the devil of a man upon Selphia. Armed with a handsome face and incredible charisma, Leon easily got away with the incessant teasing he brought upon those he singled out as 'interesting'. And one of his favourites unfortunately happened to be her.

"Y-You-!" Frey gasped. Times like this I wonder why I almost sacrificed myself to save you! You-"

Her words got cut off when the music stopped and Leon finished the dance by dipping her low, his face inches from hers. "Shhh" He whispered as he lingered there even as the others cleared off the dance floor.

_What…WHAT IS HE DOING?!_

* * *

As Frey's face involuntarily reddened under Leon's stare in what seemed like infinity, Doug choked on the salmon rice ball he had been eating. He had literally begged Jones and Nancy[3] to discharge him early in order to attend the party to be there with her. He had planned it all: to surprise her when she was finally done with receiving other people's congratulations and then to produce his own form of congratulations which formed the small bulge in his pocket. But the dragon priest had beaten her to it.

And to make matters worse, at the moment he was even holding her in the most inappropriate way that made him want to punch Leon's snake[4].

The dwarf's legs curiously acted on their own as he stood up and abandoned his table. His mind buzzed with confusion as his alien feet started marching over to the pair in the middle of the dance floor. What was he doing? They were just dancing…right? There was nothing wrong with dancing. After all, he had seen people finished with dips before – but wait, it was never _that_ close!-But how was it any of his business anyway?! He was only a…a…

A…friend…?

Too caught up in his thoughts, Doug hardly noticed the tall figure of a waiter looming closer in his peripheral vision until he crashed into him.

* * *

When the first shout erupted in the Hall, Frey felt Leon's grip loosen. Across the dance floor, a long blonde ponytail swished agitatedly from the left to the right and back as its owner walked off with a troubled expression. "Interesting…._very i_nteresting." Leon mused aloud as his eyes darted between the quarrelling duo near the tables and the retreating dragon knight.

"You expected all this to happen, didn't you?" Frey eyed him as she finally felt both feet touch the ground again.

Hiding his thoughtful expression behind his peacock fan, the dragon priest did not answer for a moment. Still lost in his contemplation, he nonchalantly shrugged.

"…Maybe?"

* * *

"Get out of my way, you stupid horse!"

"I would, if there weren't something small with a large ego blocking my way!"

"What did you say?"

"I said, I would, if there weren't something small with a large-"

"-S-Shut up! I was not asking you to literally repeat yourself! Do you take me for an idiot?"

"Yes."

"Y-you-! Shut up! That was rhetorical too!"

The music in the hall came to an abrupt halt as the notorious bickering familiar to the residents of Selphia got louder and louder.

"Maybe the next time you run off to the forge, you should craft yourself a new brain, dumbass."

"Nah," the red-haired dwarf scoffed as he glared at the horse guardian, "I'm a generous guy, wouldn't want to make you look worse than you already do."

"Said the chibi standing next to me." Dylas retorted through clenched teeth.

"Oo, such harsh words from a tsundere." Doug hissed, "Why don't you just admit it now that you admire me for being awesome so I can reject you and then we can move on?"

The taller man shot him a look of pure disdain. "…What is _wrong _with you?"

There are moments in life when a small pool of dread fills your stomach. It is a tiny voice that tells you "No, bad you! Stop!" but the willfulness in you refuses to relent. That moment occurred to both men half a minute before they felt an iron grip on both of their shoulders and a gloriously bushy moustache entered their peripheral vision.

"GENTLEMEN." The owner of the grip boomed, "IS THERE A PROBLEM HERE?"

Fear is a funny thing. It transcends space and time, and has a bad habit of bringing up similar unpleasant situations which undoubtedly remained in our memories because it scarred us for life. Like chided schoolboys, the two men quickly dropped their gaze to their feet and mumbled, "…no…"

"WELL THEN, Dylas I strongly suggest you help Sir Porcoline before he chokes on too much ootoro." It was a strong suggestion. But as strong suggestions go, they were usually a prelude to "or else…". As per the strong suggestion, Dylas proceeded to do so, but not before he gave the dwarf one last glare as he stalked off. The moustache turned to Doug. "And Doug, I hope you quietly enjoy the rest of the party, too. Or I shall indulge your overenthusiasm by asking you to join me on stage to entertain the guests."

Doug swallowed hard at the old smiling panther. Volkanon really knew how to hit where it hurt – both literally and metaphorically. Making him look like a fool in front of the entire town and its visitors was in his list of Top 10 Worst Situations To Be Caught In: right below Suffocating To Death In a Forge and above Getting Caught Sneaking Out to Leave Cornflakes for Dylas On His Birthday.

Gingerly, he nodded and started to walk towards dispersing crowd.

"Doug!"

He looked up and saw Frey standing just a few feet away. Wide-eyed, he almost forgot to breathe. Up close she looked even more amazing than she did on the dance floor.

"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be resting?"

"Jones' and Nancy's tremendous love was getting suffocating, so I wanted to take a breather." He lied, giving her a wry smile.

He admired her beautiful face light up as she laughed. "Oh, pooooor you. Did that make you feel lonelier?"

"Sure it did. That's why I totally came here to pick a quarrel with Dylas." His tone was undoubtedly sarcastic. The mirth that bubbled up in Frey instantly made her forget how annoyed she had been with him.

As they grinned conspiratorially at each other, Doug remembered about the lump in his pocket.

"Come on, let's talk outside. If I stay here any longer Dylas might really glare a hole in my head and I'll never recover."

* * *

The cool night breeze was refreshing as Frey gazed down at Selphia's beautiful landscape. The famous towns in the country were easily recognizable by its unique topography which drew the tourist crowds every season. Selphia was built hanging over a cliff, while the towns of Alvarnia and Sharance were respectively built by the sea and around a mystical giant tree said to channel the state of the land. Settling at the steps of the plaza at Selphia's main entrance, Doug motioned her over to join him which she did.

They were both silent for a while as they listened to the pleasant sounds of the night. It was a pleasant silence, a silence only possible when two people comfortable enough with each other did not feel a need to talk to appreciate each other's presence.

"I heard that you're leaving for the capital tomorrow morning." Doug finally said.

"Mm-hm."

Digging into his pockets, he gripped onto the soft object that he had been working on for what seemed like ages. "Well, you uh, take care of yourself over there, okay?"

"…Although I suppose Arthur will make sure you're well taken care of." He quietly added.

"What can possibly happen to me there Doug?" Frey grinned, brushing back a stray strand of hair that danced in the breeze. "I bet the people in the capital are going to seem so ordinary compared to the monsters and townspeople we face on a daily basis."

"I don't care, I'm just afraid that you won't come back." He almost said. But instead, he cleared his throat and just grinned back. "That's true. Especially when we have an iron princess that falls out the sky and walks away unscathed."

"Hey!" She folded her arms and pouted. "Says the stalker who pops out of nowhere in dungeons and hands a near stranger magic spells!"

Lucky for Doug, his blush was barely visible under the pale glow of the moonlight. "That…" he choked as the memory of meeting Frey for the first time flooded back. When she had entered the general store that day, he thought that he was still dreaming. As she introduced herself and smiled radiantly, he felt a weird sensation spreading throughout his body. It was a frivolous thing – just nervousness in response to an attractive stranger's presence. The doll-like eyes and her amazing smile always got him. Like two perfectly cut emeralds with a uniquely warm colour, those eyes flanked by long lashes seemed to suck him in as she beamed. But as he got to know her better, the girl had quickly shed the frail maiden image and won his deeper admiration for her feisty yet generous spirit. She was – is – a confusingly treasured friend, despite all the wrongs that he had done to her in the last few months.

Or was she?

She was special to him in ways that the rest of the female villagers were not. It was something he could not explain in words but seeing her was like receiving an instant shot of happiness.

"But I'm glad you did stalk me-"

"-I did not stalk you!-"

Doug's protest was immediately silenced when Frey faced him with a gentle expression on her face. "If not for those spells, I think I would have fainted so many times in the dungeons Jones would just consider turning me into a bionic robot."

It was hard to hold her gaze as his face nearly became the same shade as his hair. Fine, he had stalked her. It was partly because he was suspicious about the new princess snooping around the dungeons dangerously close to the Sech border, and partly also because he was worried about this stranger. "You would make a lousy robot. You'd never listen to anyone."

A different silence swallowed them this time. It was the kind of silence two people shared when they were suddenly overly conscious of the other[5].

"You know Frey, I'm really sorry for being such an asshole to you." He suddenly confessed.

Frey's eyes widened in surprise. "Where's all this coming from?"

"It's nothing. I've just been wanting to apologize to you for a very long time, and never got the proper chance to – with me being wounded and all. I wanted to tell you this before you left." Doug took a deep breath and his expression twisted into one of remorse. "If not for me… Ventuswill might still be alive today."

No matter what, he could not bring himself to look up at Frey. In the months after Frey had released all the guardians, she had been frantically collecting rune spheres in a bid to save Ventuswill's life. Fooled into thinking that the dragon had been the one responsible for the slaughter of his entire clan, Doug had reported this to the Sech Empire that he was working under as a spy. In the end, the rune spheres were stolen and the entire incident with Ethelbard had happened. He had endangered everyone's lives despite their kindness and he could never forgive himself for it. He had fought his hardest to distance himself from everyone, to avoid the emotional crash and burn that would inevitably happen when they found out who he really was. But evidently, his attempts were breached by this girl with jade-coloured hair and Blossom, the old lady running the general store who took him in like her own son.

"It's…It's not your fault." Frey's voice quivered. "You really had no idea."

Doug's hands unconsciously balled into fists as the self-resentment flooded back. "Don't say that. I could have questioned the Selphs. But I didn't. I was blinded by revenge-" His voice had grown harsher now. "- When I confronted you for the first time, I was…I almost…"

_I was prepared to fight you. Maybe even to kill you._

Now that he thought about it, perhaps a small part of him had wanted her to kill him too. It was a torture carrying the burden of his clan's deaths. It weighed on his conscious heavily – it still did – but as much as he could not ignore its cries for justice, it did not erase the principles of good and evil that he held.

"-Stop." A soft sensation pressed against his arm as the warmth of Frey's hand travelled up it. "I don't blame you." She firmly said. "So please, stop blaming yourself anymore. I don't want to lose anyone else."

A thin film of tears formed over the dwarf's brilliant grey eyes when he heard that. Though Blossom had reassured him shortly after he gotten injured defending her when the Selphs attacked the town, he knew deep down that he needed to hear it from the dear princess that he had hurt deeply.

_I'm such an idiot_, he chuckled bitterly to himself. _Here I am, making her sad again_.

He was raising his arm to wipe away his embarrassing reaction when she impulsively hugged him.

Doug froze as the shock overwhelmed him. With her head tucked beneath his neck, he could smell the spicy vanilla fragrance of her shampoo – even feel the silkiness of it tickling his chin. It was an oddly comfortable feeling as much as it sent alarm bells ringing in his head. As time stretched out, he felt himself wanting to hold her back – but in a tighter manner, as if he were guarding the most precious of jewels. He almost forgot to breathe as he fought against the urge.

They broke apart in a fluster when they heard Magaret yelling from the castle. "Heeeeyyy! Doug! Blossom is tired and wants to go back already!"

"I-I'll be there! Ask her to wait for me to walk her back!" he miraculously managed to answer. Now that he could no longer feel the warmth of her body against his (especially in that dress, gods), his mind started to clear. Why had she done that? He wrestled down the impulse there and then to ask her what he was to her.

There is no way it was anything special, a cynical voice in him said. In any case as a traitor, he did not deserve to even dare think so.

So instead, he hastily fished into his pockets and pulled out a soft charm which he pushed lightly into Frey's palm.

"I-I managed to make this in my free time when Jones let me borrow Bado's crafting table." He ran his hand through his hair in a distracted manner. "It's not perfect, but Blossom said I should make one for you too…" The only reason he was giving it to her directly was because the same old woman had refused to hand it to her on his behalf. 'Man up!' she had ordered as she cheekily grinned at her adopted son. "C-Congratulations on being a real princess now. We all always knew that Arthur was the real prince, you know – b-but not that it matters now!"

"…Thank you."

His shoulders slumped in relief as she admired it, turning it sideways and over. "W-Well, it looks I'm an effective teacher, eh?" she added, seemingly flustered herself.

Still tomato-faced, he just nodded. The princess had forced him to learn from some crafting after discovering how much he dread the town's annual crafting contest. It was utterly humiliating to be a dwarf and not know how to craft. His lack of knowledge was attributed to the murder of his entire clan – he was just about old enough to learn the secrets of their craft when the incident had happened.

"You're one hell of a teacher." He agreed as he got up. "Well, I have to rush off. I'll see ya when you're back…take care of yourself."

And he took off towards the castle, a different kind of emotional war now playing out in his head.

The hug had made him insanely happy. He had never been hugged by anyone who counted as a friend, with his only contacts being the agents of the Sech Empire and the townspeople who he tried hard to distance himself from. But somehow, a defiant voice in his head told him that this felt different.

And that was a problem.

* * *

[1] Such as Frey choking on a giant pineapple during the Eating Contest. Those things were an evil health hazard. It surprised her that locals like Volkanon and Blossom managed to live to their age without choking to death on at least one of those abominations.

[2] Because hey, that's worth way more than gold.

[3] Mostly utilizing the latter to bargain on his side with the former.

[4] A snake worn as an ornament by a handsome half-naked man usually does magic to a woman's hormones, but the abuse of said snake is a terrible metaphor for the abuse of the real one.

[5] Like walking into the wrong toilet and catching the eye of the opposite gender there. Hey – happens to everyone. Just saying.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the late update but I hope this long chapter makes up for my absence in the past month! Was happily travelling in Barcelona just after my exams so I didn't have much time to write except for the occasional late nights when I was not feeling like a lorry had run me over.**

**I will update the next chapter soon though because I am already halfway through it :D**

**The plot will thicken significantly next chapter!**

**And for those who have no idea what Porcoline was doing, he was sushi/sashimi modelling. Most of the time it is done by a gorgeous lady who might be half-naked or completely naked. She basically lies down and gets paid a lot for being a human plate while guests dine on the sushi/sashimi arranged on her. It is supposed to be aesthetically pleasing in some way. I don't really get it myself, but I find it rather quirky. **

**Merry Christmas Eve guys! **


	5. Chapter 5 - Black

**Chapter 5 (Black): Nothing personal but please, hold still while I knock you out**

Micah watched with amusement as the princess threw her arms out and screamed into her palms the moment the dwarf was far from sight. "Gods, why did I do that!" she exclaimed as she shook her flushed head.

And I thought the girls from Sharance were innocent enough, he mused. She was not that much younger than him, but they were miles apart in experience. He had after all, dated plenty and was even married to the girl that brought so much joy into his life.

Slowly, he moved into position as his target continued her emotional panic attack. The party had come at a perfect time. People often let their guard down at the party and at least you could expect everyone to be clustered in one central location. No need to worry about accidental passerbys.

_Please don't blame me for this. It's nothing personal._

The half-monster honestly liked the princess as a person. And especially after witnessing the scene that had played out between her and the dwarf, he could not help but feel even worse. After all, what he was about to do would put her and the entire town into jeopardy.

"It's no use." The earthmate with the blue bandana had lamented after getting over the shock of Micah's transformation. "My village head would never listen. He's a peace-loving man, and precisely because he is one, he would rather choose to participate in the alliance in these circumstances."

The stubborn old man of Sharance would never have listened too. He was shrewd enough to know that with the Sechs defeated, there was nothing to keep the capital in check. This was not the first time an alliance had been proposed but what made the independent leaders bold in rejecting previous propositions was the king's preoccupation with the Sechs. Wielding the largest and most experienced army in Norad, Araetica could now just walk into any town and declare it theirs. Asking for a political alliance was thus just a more diplomatic way of doing so. It was the gentleman's way of holding a knife to your throat and saying 'after you my dear, and please, I insist, do have some cherries while you're at it' so as to not anger the common folk.

Even if he and Kyle had tried to tell their town leaders what they had suspected was going on all these years, it would mean nothing. The horrible past, the unjust present and outsiders were trivial when the lenses were focused on mere survival of your own people. As terrible as it sounded, that was what it meant to hold the responsibility of the town leader – and rightly so.

…Which was why they had to take matters into their own hands.

There was no way he could sit by and watch Sharance bow to the whims of the capital while its people celebrated its own harmonious spirit. They had enough blood on their hands they were blinded to.

"If we can't stop our own leaders from showing up, then we'll just have to stop the main highlight from doing so."

"…what do you mean?"

Micah let out a pained sigh. "We have to stop the princess of Selphia from showing up." Reaching into his well-hidden backpack, he started sharpening his blades. "You see," he continued, "If Selphia does not show up, both Alvarnia and Sharance will hesitate. If we cannot convince them, we shall plant the seeds of doubt in their heads for them."

He tested the blade carelessly in the air and decided it was not sharp enough.

"The princess. What makes her so important?" the brunette queried.

"What makes her so important?" Micah laughed, incredulous at the question. "My friend, have you been living under a rock? The princess defeated Ethelbard of the Sech Empire! If she can defeat the ruler of the Empire when he had possessed the wind dragon, can you imagine how much pause she would give the capital should they try to invade? With such a powerful person seemingly boycotting the signing of an alliance, the two old men of our towns might even consider it in their favour to do so as well. The spark of resistance can cause an unintended wildfire."

The blonde watched as Kyle's eyes widened with realization. "But," he frowned, "wouldn't that force the capital to move? And since the deal with Selphia is actually a ruse, if they move against us aren't we just stabbing ourselves in the foot?"

"That…" Micah grimaced, "They wouldn't."

"Why?"

"Because to do that would be to shatter the image of diplomacy the capital has now. After years of fighting, the last thing the citizens want would be another war. A king is only as strong as the obedience his people afford him."

There was a pause before Kyle let out a cynical laugh. "So you mean to say," he gasped between breaths, "that we're playing a game of time? After all, they would not want to fight _now_, but what about later?"

His companion levelled his gaze. "Yes and no. There is… well, something else. But I cannot confirm that now. I need you to trust me."

"But I don't trust you." the brunette seriously said, "In fact, I think you're bat shit crazy to place the fate of both our lives and our towns on a hunch."

It was understandable. Despite the common concerns that they shared, the fact remained that they were still strangers united by a temporary purpose – a purpose that simultaneously threatened and redeemed their future, depending on which way the cards fell.

"But…" he added after a tense silence, "A hunch is better than none."

As Micah recalled the spell he had conjured halfway in his hidden hand, the older male got up and gathered his fishing rod.

"I do hope you're prepared to shoulder the burden. If the capital acts first with Selphia, you're putting innocents in danger. Innocents who had no part in your plan" He added gravely.

"Our plan." Micah soberly corrected him. "And yes, I am. Although I am hoping to hell that they don't."

_Kidnapping. Who ever thought a former guard would resort to such antics?_

Micah crept closer as Frey deliberated whether or not to equip the charm Doug had given her. The moment she looked away from the bushes, he changed into his human form and burst out. She hardly had any time to react as he covered her mouth with a cloth and restrained her arms. All he needed to do now was to wait for the poison to work and knock her out.

It was mostly going to plan. The only thing he had not accounted enough for was how much of a fight she was capable of putting up. Micah soon found himself breathing hard as she struggled violently against him, thrashing with a surprising amount of force. A jolt of pain shot up through his left leg when she finally managed to stomp on him with one of her heeled boots. Breaking free, she ran towards the castle.

_Oh no you don't!_

Recovering quickly from his initial flinch, the blonde gathered magic in his hands and directed it out with a sharp flick.

The ground cracked and a spike of earth suddenly burst out in front of Frey's path, knocking her back.

Still reeling from confusion and panic, the girl staggered onto her feet and drew out a dark purplish-red blade. About one meter long, the elegant blade glowed eerily under the moonlight, emitting waves of poison. It was not her best sword but it was the one that she currently had equipped.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, "And what do you want from me?!"

A smile tugged at the corner of Micah's lips. The princess' tenacity was really starting to become rather endearing.

"I want you to quietly come with me just for a few days." He replied coolly, drawing his own set of weapons: a pair of expertly crafted dual blades. "But I really doubt you'd comply. Would it help if I said please?"

He extended his blades outwards, all 76 centimeters of diamond-enhanced steel shining wildly in the night. Its hilts were equally as impressive as the blades themselves. Made of dragon fang, it boasted of a complex pattern of intricate swirls, dyed ebony black.

Frey tried not to gawk at its magnificence, glaring at its owner instead for his cocky comment. If they had met under different circumstances, perhaps they might have even been friends. The knack for crafting was something they both shared.

Before Frey could respond, Micah charged forward with an upward slash. Fortunately, Frey's reaction was just as fast. Frey swung her sword horizontally against the blow, parrying the incoming attack just as she used the momentum to carry her backwards. An earth column burst out in the space that she had just been in seconds before, absorbing the impact of Micah's second blade. The column was immediately shattered upon impact, exploding into a large dust cloud.

Almost a second after, a crackling roar pierced the air as a ball of fire burst through the dust cloud. Had Micah been a few seconds slower, it would have hit home. Instead, it fizzled and burst into an even bigger cloud of mist as it came into contact with a hastily-conjured water laser.

Both fighters' visions were obstructed as the mist started to blossom over the space between them. Micah tensed, considering his next move. Should he run in head-on or take the longer route? If the princess was using this opportunity to run, he might not be able to reach her in time if he took the latter option. Cutting directly through the mist cloud would have been faster, but if she were lying in wait for him there, he would be at the disadvantage. He took a gamble. Micah changed back into woolly form and darted to his left, running silently in a semi-circle towards the direction the fireball had sprung from.

_She's probably weighed me up by now and knows that I am more than a good match for her. She would have deduced that I'm not just some hired thug who would hesitate to chase her into the castle. Given this and concluding my observations of her, it seems that she has a significant disincentive in running back to get help. More people joining in the fight would place me at a disadvantage, but it also means that other people would get hurt. _

He smiled grimly as a blurred outline of the girl's back gradually came into view.

_Yes, you don't want to lose anyone else, do you?_

By the time Frey heard the heavy footsteps of a human as Micah changed back, he already had her arms crossed behind her. Her short sword fell to the ground with a dull clang when the force pinning her twisted her wrists painfully. Frey cried out and a burst of light appeared around her, forming small balls of light that revolved speedily.

Sharance's hero yelped as he felt the burn of Frey's light magic. He flipped backwards acrobatically, cursing his carelessness. He had forgotten about _that_ spell.

There was a considerable distance between the two now as they fiercely studied each other, struggling to catch their breath. "How…" Frey gasped, "Is it you're able to keep up with me?"

"You're not the only earthmate around, you know." Micah gruffly replied, his heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears. "Not that you would know or remember."

This feeling was familiar to the two of them. The heightened sensitivity to one's surroundings, the attuned alertness to any movement as adrenaline coursed through one's veins – it was an induced sensation by battle, where seconds stretched out into eternity. They were both experienced fighters and Frey was now very aware of it.

Micah's eyebrows knitted together as he noticed Frey adjusting her stance. With knees slightly bent, she had placed one foot slightly behind the other, angled slightly as she rested most of her weight on it. It was a posture that enabled light movement and a reasonable amount of groundedness – excellent for quick, rapid strikes. He had had his suspicions from the way the princess held her sword to her polished fighting style but now he was quite sure of it.

"Let me do you a favour and tell you something about your past" Micah snickered as the inner confusion and conflict intensified in Frey. "You're no common folk or a merchant's daughter. You've definitely been military trained, and anyone who has been through it can tell you that." He was a guard once himself. Her stance perfectly mirrored his.

It was almost reminiscent seeing how Frey's expression immediately changed. He had been there before, and knew how hungry he had been to know about his past.

"What…what makes you think I'll believe you! Y-You…you show up here, attack me and suddenly claim to know about me! Do you take me for a fool?" his opponent snorted unconvincingly. Micah noticed how her hands were shaking slightly.

To not know who you were is terrifying. In a sea of faceless people, the only thing keeping you apart was your cumulated sense of worth and experience in the world.

_Princess, in another meeting, I would dread fighting you. But the way you can't help hankering for your past is your Achilles Heel. _

_And that is why you will lose._

"Do you honestly think you picked up fighting on your own?" he taunted. "Did you think that fighting was something you learnt naturally, perfection coming from swinging a sword around randomly? No, I hope not. Because I'm sure you noticed how not everyone could fight as easily as you did, even with help of time."

_Yes, that's it. Keep trembling._

"-You were not _learning_ how to fight. Your body was simply slowly _recalling_ it –"

" –You're lying–" Frey growled.

"-And what about crafting and forging?" Micah relentlessly pursued, demonstratively pointing at her sword with one of his. "Blacksmiths take _years_ to learn that. Years. You perfected it in months –"

"-Shut up! Who the hell are you!? Stop toying with me! If you know who I really am, just say it!"

Frey was too distracted to notice the small lump in the ground charging towards her from the right flank. When it was within reach, multiple spikes burst from the ground, sending her flying into the air.

Dashing forward, Micah struck her with the back of his swords just as she fell towards the ground. The wind was knocked out of her with a gasp and she finally went motionless.

The blonde let out a relieved sigh.

Target acquired, he thought bitterly. Why couldn't she just have passed out from the poison earlier? Now he was an even bigger villain for beating her up.

The steady light surrounding Frey grew fader until it disappeared, darkness hungrily swallowing up the grounds of Selphia's main entrance once again. Pulling the petite frame up, he hauled her into a fireman's carry and turned towards the forest. Kyle should be waiting there with transportation.

"You just love sweeping girls off their feet, don't you?" a quiet voice shattered the calm of the fight's aftermath.

Micah's eyes rounded. For a second, he swore he felt the intense heat from a forge brush against his cheeks again, his olfactory senses overwhelmed by the pungent mixture of sweat, leather and metal. And surely enough, he looked up slowly to meet the intense stare of Sharance's blacksmith's assistant.

"Raven." He barely managed to whisper her name.

The redhead made a conscious effort not to return any of the emotion that was almost screaming from her old beau's expression. "Put her down, Micah." She firmly ordered. "I don't know what you're up to, but the man I know would not beat a sweet girl up and whisk her away." She cringed a little inside. Not know – _knew_.

"Why did you run to such a distant town and why haven't you come back to Sharance?" Micah demanded, ignoring her statement.

Sadness shone in Raven's bright aquamarine eyes, betraying her. However, she maintained a steady voice. "The princess ordered me to be here everyday, so I figured it's easier if I just stayed here. Besides, business is good here. The blacksmith here is more than happy to buy up Gaius' weapons because he doesn't make his own." She replied monotonously. "Now Micah, put her down."

Gaius. She missed watching that dwarf's back as he tirelessly hammered away at his forge. The man practically lived and breathed alongside the forge's fire, taking a break only to worry about his adopted redhead or to fawn over the town's eccentric clothing designer.

"Since when did you simply listen to what people tell you to do?" the blonde persisted, still holding on tightly to his target.

Raven could feel her defenses cracking as anger filled her up. "Since I learnt that it was futile to do so otherwise." She muttered, her hands balling into fists. The more she looked at that completely clueless expression, the angrier she got. How could he not have noticed? Why did she stubbornly refuse to listen to everyone's advice after it happened? The old questions surfaced in her mind once more. After he had gotten married out of the blue, everyone around her had told her to give up, to just be happy for the two of them. She had refused. Instead, she had watched the fool smile the smile he used to give her at his new wife, killing her a little bit at a time. "You should take a lesson too – and I won't ask again – and let the princess _go_."

Micah's expression darkened and he muttered, "I've been waiting for you to come back, you know…" He took a deep breath, his voice steadily increasing, "You suddenly disappear one day without a word, and when I ask Gaius where you went, he just shakes his head and refuses to tell me! What reaction did you expect me to have!" He abruptly paused, calming himself before he alerted the people in the castle. Then he said softly, "Gaius misses you. I've… _I've _missed you."

The last bit of the woman's self-control shattered into oblivion. "Missed me? You should have thought about that before you suddenly proposed to her! You're an unfair person Micah, missing another female when you're already married." She stifled a small sob as Micah's expression grew in realization. Nobody but Gaius was originally supposed to be close to her; it was a mistake letting this man push his way in with his incredible persistence.

"I'm…I'm…" he stuttered, unsure of what to say. The proposal had happened impulsively during one of his current wife's request. It was not that he did not love his wife then. He was simply too caught up in that moment to consider telling the other girls first. He knew that they had feelings for him –as he did in return – and even after, it was difficult to approach them as he did not want to lose their friendship. "…For anything its worth, I'm sorry" he looked ashamed.

The tall grass beside him rustled and Micah's heart nearly skipped a beat. A ball of white fur poked out and the wild wooly's face it was attached to grinned at him. His nerves calmed down. He was not discovered yet.

"This is not the right time." He said, remembering his purpose. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"You can make it up to me now by leaving that girl alone." Raven suddenly stepped into his path. "This is my home now and she is my dear friend and valued customer."

"Raven." The half-wooly's voice was almost a warning now. "This is not the time. If you stop me, the Sharance you knew will be no longer."

"And if I don't stop you, then the Selphia I _know_ will definitely suffer." She tilted her head up, eyes ablaze. "I know you've been watching her Micah. I can recognize your scent from miles away. That girl needs to be in the capital tomorrow. I don't know what you're trying to do, but you're putting this town in danger if she does not show up. It will be read as an act of defiance."

"I know that."

"What?"

"And I will take full responsibility for everything." He was prepared to do so, even if it cost him his life – whether it be retribution for what is to come by the townspeople themselves, or by his efforts in damage control.

Even though seeing the disappointment displayed by Raven crushed him, he did not waver. "_Please_. Don't try and stop me."

"You've completely changed, Micah." She choked out.

He slowly drew out one sword. "As did you."

The kick shot out faster than Micah could anticipate it, his sword a mere glint of silver as it disappeared into the shrubbery in the distance. He felt her move in with her own, expecting his other hand to be tied down holding Frey in place. Instead, his head snapped towards that hand, a flash of metal gleaming from under his bracers.

Raven's body jerked to a stop when she felt cold steel against her throat, gripped between Micah's teeth. She waited for death, but it did not come. Opening her eyes, she met his tortured gaze.

_I wish there were another way too._

She seized the opening and transformed, moving upwards out of his reach. With a powerful flap of her wings, she blew him diagonally across the entrance grounds and into the east side of town. Micah's body flew like a rag doll, flying through the air and crashing through the bridge's handrails. He dropped into the river beneath with a loud splash, the current quickly sweeping him away.

Raven rushed over to Frey's body which was hanging dangerously off the edge of the damaged bridge. A part of the handrail that miraculously did not shatter had saved her. Transforming back, she picked her up carefully and hauled her back towards the castle, tears streaming down her face.

* * *

**A/N: I really enjoyed developing Micah's character in this chapter. I wanted to show how he had changed over the years. To me, Micah was always craftier than Kyle was - with Kyle being more of a simpleton but a really generous guy. After all, it was thanks to Micah's nuanced Public Relations skills that he managed to reunite the humans and monsters once again. I hope you like this portrayal too. **

**I added in his interaction with Raven because it was interesting how they explained why Barrett was in Selphia (researching) but not Raven. Furthermore, I always wished that just shortly after the wedding, the bachelors/bachelorettes would not act as if nothing happened. If I were them, I would be pissed off as hell.**

**And uh, reaching 17k words and only just hitting the capital arc in the next chapter. This is going to be a longer story than expected. Hope you're in for the ride ahahahaha (and I hope I myself will finish it).**

**Feel free to share your thoughts and point out spelling errors/grammatical mistakes, cheers! :D**

**Thank you for all your responses so far! *bows***


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